A Hospitalized Hero!
by PiXEL10
Summary: England was having a lazy day, just trying to forget a rather embarrassing event that happened in the last World Meeting. But his day is thrown off when a certain American calls after a horrible accident. UsUk!
1. Chapter 1: The Phone Call

It was just another boring day in the life of good old England. The blond Brit reclined in one of his plush chairs, the wooden frame creaking beneath his small frame. Outside the rain fell rather harshly, it only added to his depression.

"Damn this weather," he sipped his tea, which he may or may not have mixed with his own special brew.

Whenever the weather took a turn for the worst England always felt at his lowest point. His mystical friends always seemed to show up less when storms were brewing. So he was all alone with only his (possibly alcoholic) tea and his own thoughts.

His mind wandered to a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed American. England wondered what that idiot was up to right now. Was he sitting in a dark room, playing some new video game for hours upon hours? Perhaps he was at his favorite restaurant with an absurdly large mountain of hamburgers. Or maybe he was out with friends... Maybe he was even getting lucky with some sap... England tried to push away the throbbing close in his chest.

"Get a hold of yourself!" He pushed himself out of his chair and began to wander around his home. There was no way in Hell he was going to spend another minute fretting over America. That moronic, egotistical, obese, lazy, carefree, good looking... Wait what?

"Nope! Nope! Not falling for that," England yelled at no in particular. "Dear God," he groaned and rubbed his unkept hair. "I'm losing my mind. I'm losing my bloody mind."

In a last ditch effort to ward off his loneliness he turned on his television. It was some fluff piece on the local news. Something about a puppy or a kid or whatever. Either way it did not interest the brooding nation in the slightest. But for lack of better entertainment he left the channel on. If he was just going to laze about today he should at least try to keep up to date on current events. It was his duty as a nation after all.

About halfway through the five o'clock news England's phone rang.

"Good afternoon," he tried to sound as gentlemanly as possible. "This is the Kirkland residence."

"Oh hon hon hon! How polite of you, mon ami!" The french man's laugh played through the phone and into the Brit's ear. Pure loneliness was the only thing keeping him from hanging up on the pervert.

"And what gives me the pleasure of your call, frog?" England's teeth gritted together as he tried not to spit out the words too vehemently.

"Oh hon hon! Do I intrigue you?" God, England really hated that laugh. "Well, if you must know... I have decided to give all the pretty ladies of your lovely nation a present. My love!" England mentally groaned.

"And pray tell, why did you call me? I've told you over and over again. I'm not going to be your wingman!" If that stupid frog actually thought the noble nation of England was going to help a pervert bed desperate women, then he was even more mental than England had previously suspected.

"Oh, calm down. I am perfectly capable of winning woman over on my own! What female could withstand my charming good looks and pure French charm?" He laughed again, this time it almost lasting a full minute.

"Pure French charm, my ass! Now will you please tell me why you're calling, or I'm hanging up the phone right now!" England's eye brows furrowed together in frustration.

"Fine, fine," he prattled on. "I was just wanting to run a play by you before I try it."

"What happened to pure French charm?"

"Shush and listen!" He took a deep breath in. _Better be good_, the British man thought."Okay! Do you think British ladies would be intrigued if I referred to my penis as Big Ben? Or do you think that's too strong?"

"Oh god, you're serious aren't you," England groaned. The urge to hang up the phone was growing.

"Is that your thing? You wouldn't mind if I used it, right?" Nope, nope! England did not want to have this conversation. Ever! "You have to admit, I can pass it off as Big Ben! Oh hon hon hon!"

Nope! Not doing this today! He slammed the phone down before that frog could violate his mind anymore!

The phone rang once more. "Not answering," England called out. It continued ringing. There was no way England was giving into that stupid frog's plans. And England did hold his ground... Until five full minutes of unceasing ringing.

When the sixth minute rolled around, the blond had enough. With enough ferocity to rival even Germany's, he grabbed the phone. "YOU BETTER STOP CALLING! THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL I AM ANSWERING ANY FUCKING QUESTIONS ABOUT YOUR PENIS! YOU STUPID FROG!" With his breath spent, he went to hang up the phone.

"Well hello to you, too." The lazy American accent caused England to freeze up. "Dude, I really need to talk to you, but-"

"No, no. Sorry America. France was just being himself." England tried his best 'to keep his cool' as America would say.

"Naw, it's cool," he laughed casually, causing England's heart to thump wildly.

_Come on! Don't be like that_, England tried to distract himself from what was obviously a superficial crush.

"So why are you calling me, America?" He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Um, nothing... Just thought I should call you. Ya know how it is?" He laughed, but it sounded a little off beat.

"I can assure you that I have no idea of 'how it is'," England sighed, wishing the erratic thumping in his chest would cease.

"Well after that last world meeting," England's blood ran cold. "I just sorta wanted to talk about it. And-"

"No. No, we are not talking about... _that. _It would be best just to forget about all that. I was drunk and I cannot be held accountable for anything said." Was it getting hotter in his house or was it just him? England pulled at the collar of his shirt._  
_

"But England!" The American whined like a child. "I just wanted-"

"America, I refuse to talk about it!" The heat was rushing to England's face and turning it a radish red.

"But Iggy!" He whined even louder.

"No, I refuse! And that's not my name!" England regretted that last meeting. Why did he agree to go out drinking with France?

"Fine," he grumbled like a small child. England couldn't help, but smile at the childishness.

"What are you even doing at this hour?" England didn't want another one of their conversations ending in an argument. He took a sip of his (now cold) tea.

"Just waiting around for an ambulance," he said as if it was an average event.

"WHAT?!" England's tea was now soaked all over his livingroom. "What the hell are you doing!?"

"Woah, calm down! I'm fine... I think." He laughed his 'heroic' laugh, trying to play fine.

"What the hell happened?" England growled over the phone. "I swear if I'm talking to you while you have a broken leg again... You really need to take car of yourself!"

"You're such a worry wart! Dude, I always take care of myself!" England could hear an underlying waver in his voice.

"What did you do this time, you git? Was it stair surfing with a mattress again? I've told you time and time again that it will not turn out any better no matter how many times you do it!" England rubbed his temples, fighting an oncoming migraine. _I swear my hair is going to turn grey if he keeps that up..._

"Naw, I just got hit by a car. But I really should try that mattress surfing again. I think I figured out what went wrong," the American continued on about his misadventures as England simply stared at the floor. _Fuck grey hair, I'm going to go freaking bald!_

England seemed to find his voice again. "You were hit by a car?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to 'freak out'. "Are you okay," he breathed.

"Huh? Yeah, I think so... Nobody is letting me move, something about shock and stuff. There's not too much blood and I feel all numb and stuff, so... Yeah!" He laughed like the moron he was.

Forget about not yelling, England was about to break his phone. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU BLOODY GIT?! YOU ARE BLEEDING AND NUMB AND YOU THINK NOTHING IS WRONG?! WHERE ARE YOU? I'M COMING OVER TO WHATEVER HOSPITAL YOU'RE STAYING AT AND I'M GOING TO SMACK SOME FUCKING SENSE INTO THAT HARD SKULL OF YOURS!" He paused to take a breath. "Tell me how damaged your car is."

"Oh, yeah... I wasn't in a car..." America waited for the Brit to freak out again. "See there was this kid in the road and this huge truck coming for him. It wasn't slowing or nothing, so being the awesome hero I am, I saved him!" He laughed at his heroic deed.

God damn bloody Americans and their bloody hero complexes.

"Uh, Arthur? You still there?" America's voice slightly hushed. "Um, the ambulance is going to be here soon and I still need to talk to you. I mean I know heros don't die, but I still want to tell you something just in case..."

"Shut up," England jumped up, ready to catch the earliest flight to America.

"No, I need to tell you something. I've been meaning to tell you since that last world meeting. Arthur, I-"

"Shut up! You can tell me in person!" England fought off tears that were welling up in his eyes.

"But Arthur, I might not be able to-"

"Alfred! There is no way you are leaving me!" He could hear sirens starting to wail in the distance.

"Arthur," the American whimpered over the phone, begging England to let him say what needed to be said.

"Alfred F. Jones. You are not dying. And if you think you are, then you are a bigger idiot than I thought. Now I will personally swim the ocean just to yell at you, so you better be in tiptop shape when I get there!"

America seemed to try to say something, but the wail of sirens and yells of people drowned him out. Then the line cut, leaving nothing but silence playing over the phone.

England looked down, fat tears rolling down his face and falling off his chins. He watched as they plopped the ground.

This was Alfred F. Jones, king of all idiots. He swung buffalo around when he was a toddler. He once dragged Britain's car around for an hour without breaking a sweat. There was no way that he was going to die.

"Heros don't die. Heros don't die," he quietly repeated to himself.

Okay! This is my first UsUk piece... Actually it's my first yoai piece! Hopefully this turns out well, I wrote this whole thing on an iPad. Hope I did well for a first chapter. This was actually based off a story I wrote for a creative writing piece. Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2: On the Other Side of Things

Everything hurt. His face, his arms, his legs... Everything. It had happened only a moment ago, the small boy wandering into the street, the large truck speeding down the road, and America jumping in the way.

"Ouch...," the nation tried to push himself off the asphalt, but a hand pushed him down.

"Sir, you need to stay still! I've just called an ambulance, they'll be here as soon as possible," a very worried man looked down at America.

"No, it's okay...," a slamming headache caused the blond nation to lay back down. "Maybe I'll just lay here for a moment."

All around him people were running about. The mother of the boy clung tightly to him, profusely thanking the American who was laying stiffly in the road. People began whispering and pointing at America.

"Is he bleeding!?"

"Oh my god! He is!" The a small group huddled around America and he found it becoming increasingly hard to breath.

One person in the group mustered up enough courage to confront the injured man. "Um, don't worry, we called the ambulance and they'll arrive soon. So..." He shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to face the bloody blond.

"Oh! Thanks dude," America stared back up at him, also not sure what to do. Most of the pain had slipped into a numbing sensation. "Huh, that's weird," he grinned up at the confused man.

"Uh, you know that you are... Well you're bleeding?" The man tried fathom how the seemingly normal American could be laying in the road, bleeding and possibly dying, but seem almost entertained.

America looked around and saw the blood that was apparently his. "Oh! I totally am," he laughed. _Huh, I'm bored..._ He looked around, waiting for something to hold his interest. _I still need to talk to Iggy..._

The other man just stared at America. "Maybe you're numb because of shock or- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" He watched America pull out a somehow unscathed phone.

America looked up, "Can you be a little quieter dude? I'm on the phone..." _Huh, it's been ringing for awhile now. Maybe Iggy is on the phone... Oh wait! Iggy doesn't have friends!_

_Iggy... _America began to space off as he held the ringing phone to his ear. Bushy eyebrows, messy blond hair, and an almost permanent frown, but when he did smile... America smiled at the thought of his favorite Brit. America had been in love with Arthur for almost a decade now, but he had never had the courage to tell him. That was until the last World Meeting.

The ringing had been going on for what seemed like forever, but someone finally answered. America went to greet the pretentious man, but was rudely welcomed by England screaming in his ear.

"YOU BETTER STOP CALLING! THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL I AM ANSWERING ANY FUCKING QUESTIONS ABOUT YOUR PENIS! YOU STUPID FROG!" Huh, that was a strange way to answer the phone... Maybe that's why no one ever calls him.

"Well hello to you, too," America was slowly spacing out, the numbness trying to take over his mind. Truthfully America didn't remember much of the conversation, though he did remember something about his awesome mattress surfing idea. He'd have to try that again. He tried to play off the whole ordeal so England wouldn't freak out... But eventually he did.

"Uh, Arthur? You still there?" America pushed to his drowsiness away, he needed to tell England. "Um, the ambulance is going to be here soon and I still need to talk to you. I mean I know heros don't die, but I want to tell you something in case..." America took a deep breath, ready to profess his love to England.

"Shut up," America's blue eyes widened in shock.

"No, I need to tell you something. I've been meaning to tell you since that last world meeting. Arthur, I-"

"Shut up! You can tell me in person!" No, you can't do this to me Arthur. America was desperate, this was the man he was in love with and he had to him. He HAD to.

"But Arthur, I might not be able to-" He was once again cut off by England.

"Alfred! There is no way you are leaving me!" America could hear sirens which meant he didn't have much time left.

"Arthur," he couldn't die without telling him! But the sirens were becoming even louder and it was becoming harder for the American to hear.

"Alfred F. Jones. You are not dying. And if you think you are, then you are a bigger idiot than I thought. Now I will personally swim the ocean just to yell at you, so you better be in tiptop shape when I get there!" America smiled, that was Arthur for you.

The ambulance screeched next to the accident. Two paramedics rushed from the back of the vehicle and began to grab America. This was his last chance, he mustered up what was left of his strength, "Arthur, I love you!" But unbeknownst to him, his words had been drowned out by the commotion. Then America's world went black, the last thought in his mind of Arthur Kirkland.

**So, I did another chapter! Whoo! I don't know if I like this chapter or not, but I want to finish it because I often drop stories... And I really want to finish** this.


	3. Chapter 3: Canada Appears!

Arthur pushed by the crowd in the waiting room, tired eyed mothers with crying children glared daggers at him as he passed everyone. But he could care less, he was in some city in some state, he didn't really know. He boarded the first plane he could to the city that America's brother had texted him... But on the incredibly long plane ride England had forgotten, his mind only focused on his blond haired, blue eyed American.

He stumbled down a hallway and looking for the ICU section. In his haste England accidentally collided with a short nurse.

"Excuse me, could you please inform me of where Alfred F. Jones is?" He tried to give his best 'American' grin, but only managed a half grimace. Startled, she quickly flipped through a few papers and pointed him down a white hallway.

England took a few fast steps before halting abruptly. His emerald eyes blinked a few times in shock and widened. Down the hallway stood America, blond hair and glasses lopsided, in a rather heated debate with a doctor.

"America?" Before the blond could even say a word, England ran down the long hallway and pulled the taller man into a hug. "O-Oh my God!" He held tighter to the figure. "Never do that to me again! You hear me?" He waited for the man to reply as he hung close to the soft man.

...Soft? Of course America liked to eat, but England had always thought of America keeping in shape. He pulled back and looked up at his 'America'. Sure, this man had glasses and blonde hair, but he was beet red and stuttering quietly.

England looked at America, trying to figure out why he looked... Well, he just looked odd. Blond hair, except seemed lighter and longer... Maybe the lights? He also looked pale and more womanly figured. This all seemed familiar, but not America... And his purple eyes were... Wait, purple eyes?!

"Oh, shit!" England pulled away from Can...Canodo? Canadia? It was Canadia, right? "P-Please accept my sincerest apologies. I-I haven't slept for a while and you looked so much like your brother... America?!" A few people looked around, confused. "I mean Alfred! Where's Alfred?" He was once again clutching to Cambodia, but this time in terror.

Can... What's-his-face turned to look at a bedded figure in a sterile room. A sad expression etched on his face.

"Alfred!" England rushed to the sleeping figure's side.

A few tubes ran from his face and arms into drips and machines, the peaceful beeps calmed England.

"He looks fine," he mumbled as he pushed a stray lock of dirty blond hair out of America's face. "Has he been awake at all," he asked the other nation without tearing his gaze away from America.

"No, the doctors don't know what is wrong. But then again, we aren't really normal, are we?" Canada wrung his hands nervously. "I've never seen him like this... H-Have you?"

England looked up, green eyes full of confusion. "Am-Alfred and I barely see each other anymore," England tried not to tear up. "I only see him at World Meetings nowadays." England sighed and sat in a nearby chair. "He once played sick when he was younger, but that was only time I can think of... He's survived the Pearl Harbor attack, World Wars... His economy isn't faring well and yet Alfred never shows any signs of illness." He covered his face in his hands and leaned forward. "How can a car accident do any harm to him when he's already lived through so much?"

Canada could only stand and stare at his twin. The one who always forgot his name, but never failed to show up on the Canadian's doorstep when Canada felt down. The one who was scared of the smallest hint of ghosts, but still forced both of them through every haunted house. The one who was supposed to be the hero.

"Alfred won't die," the Canadian nodded his head determinedly. "Alfred won't die and I know it."

England looked up at Canada, glaring through his messy bangs. "And how do you know that," he spat out darkly. He continued to glare at Canada with such distaste that Canada thought England was trying to test the "If Looks Could Kill" theory.

"Because I know Al. And Al always says heros don't die. You can trust him on that," Canada tried to give his best 'hero' smile.

England simply huffed out something along the lines, "The only thing Alfred is, is an idiot." But the Englishman seemed more at ease and pulled his chair closer to the sleeping America. He began absent-mindedly playing with America's hair once more, simply waiting for the blue eyes to open. England wanted nothing more than to hear the lazy accent, even if he was only going to poke fun at England for worrying.

Canada watched England curiously, America and England could rarely stay in the same room without having at least one argument about the most trivial matters. But England had jumped on a plane without any plans or preparations for America.

Of course Canada had always known America had feelings for England, even before America told his brother. The duo had spent many nights together, hamburgers and pancakes for dinner, as America whined about 'Iggy' and some odd thing that had happened.

Now Canada may have been surprised that the British nation was also showing similar feelings towards the younger man,bout he had been at the extremely, EXTREMELY World Meeting.

_The World Meeting had started out as it always started out, and now everyone was fighting as everyone always fight. Minus one Frenchman and one Englishman. And that did not go unnoticed to one American._

_"Mattiiiiii," America whined. Said nation had just pulled away from an angry Cuba wanting America's head. "Mattiiiii~" His voice grew in pettiness._

_"What do you want?" _

_"Iggy's not here!" He stamped his foot like grade schooler. "And neither is France."_

_Canada saw a way to poke fun with his brother. "Eh? Really, maybe Francis finally made his move." He clung to his bear as he watched America's face pale._

_"What's that supposed to mean!?" America grabbed Canada's shoulders and shook him hard enough to rattle all of Canada's bones._

_"Well France went out drinking with England if I'm not mistaken. We all know how... sexual," he prolonged the word just long enough for America's heart to stop. "England and France both get." _

_America just stared dumbfounded at his brother, somewhere in the background another nation threw a table, but America never moved._

_"America?" Canada waved a hand in front of the vacant stare. Okay, maybe he actually broke America. "I'm just joking... America? Alfred?" _

_America blinked once and seemed to look at his brother. "Jo...king?" It finally sunk into the nation's mind. "DUDE! DAT'S NOT COOL! Why is it always the quiet ones?"_

_Before Canada could calm America down Russia had somehow wandered over to the conversation. Before Canada knew it, America and Russia were in a heated debate._

_"Dude! Back off you stinking communist!" _

_Russia laughed in his eerily innocent voice, "Why don't you two just become one with me, da?" Canada just found it best to hang low and let them beat each other senseless. _

_Usually England was here to stop America from getting too reckless, but the nation was no where to be seen. Canada thought in interest of his well being to take a few steps from the brawl waiting to happen. He inched towards the door, it seemed like a good idea, that is until a drunk France kicked the door in which also collided with Canada._

_"Guess who's drunk?" The triumphant Francis stood in the broken doorway. England stumbled in after him. Everyone hushed and stared at the drunkards._

_"Italy guesses you two!" Italy waved at the two nations, but Germany quickly pushed him down._

_"Where have you two been? I would expect this from France, but you England?" The German stared an icy blue glare at them, but in their drunken state neither cared._

_France had already begun babying Canada and blatantly ignoring anyone else. America and Russia had begun to brawl, but froze as America's head popped up from beneath Russia's arm._

_"Iggy! You're alive!" He grinned, but then Russia once again initiated the fight._

_"Get your hands off my bloody American!" England pushed past France and faced the menacing man. America could smell the assortment of booze and beers on his breath._

_"Your American? I think you've forgotten one very important war, da?" Russia laughed as America pushed away from him._

_"Dude, I'm not your colony anymore," there were a few instances when England had gotten so drunk he would forget certain events. Once he had even thought he was still a pirate, that was an interesting night._

_"I very well know that you fucking moron!" England grabbed America's arm and forcefully pulled the tall nation behind him. "Anyone wants to be one with America," he glared at Russia. "Well, they'll have to go through me!" He tried to pull the startled American to their designated seats, but the confused nation could only manage a few stumbles._

_"Arthur?" He couldn't even comprehend the pale, slender hand that was currently wrapped around his wrist. "Uh..."_

_"What are you so star struck by," England's words were slurred and sloppy. "You think I can't make a first move?" He released America's wrists and stretched as tall as he could, luckily America had been slightly slouched. He gave a quick, but messy (he was doing pretty well for a drunk man) peck on America's cheek._

_The whole room was silent, except a laughing France who Canada was desperately trying to muffle, all eyes on the two former brothers. England made his way to a chair while America's brain tried to catch up. _

_"England," America finally breathed. All eyes turned to watch what the short man would do now. Only he was passed out cold on the table. "Damn," America whispered under his breath._

_England awoke many hours later to an empty room. A stick note stuck to one of his eyebrows, painfully he tore it off and read: "Dude! You were totally hammered! I would stay and take care of your impending hangover, but the boss needs me to do something... Well, I'll find out soon! But I do need to talk to you, it's SUPER DUPER important - the Hero!"_

_"Bollocks!" England didn't want to get up, let alone talk to America. "__Did that really happen?"_

_The only answer he got was a "Oh hon hon hon~" from France who was still drunk and laying on the ground._

_"Shit," England sighed._

Canada continued to watch as a few tears slipped down England's pale cheek. _  
_

"Why didn't I just call him," he put a fist against his forehead. "Moron, moron, moron!"

Canada grabbed a unused blanket and draped it over the tired man's shoulders. England took it without resistance, but never looking away from America. Canada crept towards the door to give them privacy.

"Thanks Cansada," England mumbled.

"It's Cana-... Nevermind" he sighed. "You're welcome, Arthur."

**Another chapter down and I started school today... D: Hopefully I can wrap this up in a few chapters! I love reviews and everyone who leaves them, I'm really glad people like this... Though I would write this just for the sake of writing it! Hope everyone was ready for school or is at least making through the day. Good luck!**


	4. Chapter 4: A Beautiful Nightmare

**Exams are over! I hate school... Hopefully this story will be done in a chapter or two! I would like to say that VengefulMothSlayer (love your username) sorta guessed part of it, sorta... (You'll see :D) And thank you to all who reviewed!**

**Also, America and England and Hetalia don't belong to me. And this disclaimer has _totally _been at the beginning of all the chapters... I didn't forget it or anything...**_  
_

_Tick tick tick_ The hands on the round clock seemed to stand still, the face never changing. But the ominous tick ticking of its gears said otherwise.

Deep bags hung under England's tired eyes, his hair even more unkept and spastic. He didn't know how much time he had spent in the stiff hospital chair since Canada left. It felt like hours to the Brit, but the clock only read half an hour.

"Come on love," England whispered as he combed through America's golden hair. "All you have to do is wake up. Simple as that."

England could feel the consequences of his sleep deprivation crawling up on him, sleep trying to drag his eyelids down. Even the constant ticking of the clock and beeping of the monitors tried to encase him in their monotonous lullaby.

But England couldn't fall asleep, he had to be awake for America. Who knows what trouble the American would get into if he was left to his own devices? And that was the only reason England was staying up. The only reason! It wasn't like he was waiting for America to wake up because he had feelings for him or something... Nothing like that! He wasn't counting the minutes that he spent in the hospital while America was unresponsive. _38 minutes..._

"Damn," England rubbed his face and leaned back in the chair. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _There's no use denying it... I love America. And not some petty crush. I love him._

England had known for awhile, he had just been... fighting it for awhile, too. His and America's relationship had never been simple, always complicated. And being in love with America, real non-brotherly love, made things that much more complicated.

But England found himself not caring about the complexity of the situation, he just wanted to be with America. Wake up next to him, walk with him, talk with him. Even if the were arguing, England didn't mind their spirited debates half the time because it was America. And not caring about the complexity made everything so simple.

But it the complexity made it simple... Wasn't it just complicated once more?

"Ugh," England opened his eyes in frustration. He couldn't be having a one-sided conversation, America NEEDED to wake up.

England watched the sleeping figure and leaned closer to him. Yep, he was in love. Maybe, just maybe, it worked like the fairy tales. Sure America wasn't going to like being casted as the damsel in distress, but England didn't care.

He leaned onto America's bed, brushing another piece of fly away hair from America's brow. He looked so much younger without his glasses on, England couldn't stop this silly notion he had in the back of his mind. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and pressed his lips gently upon America's.

Even before he pulled back, England knew it was a stupid, moronic idea. One for children. Tears began cascading down his cheeks and he pulled away from America, vision blurred.

"Arthur. What's wrong with your face?" England's eyes flew open wide and stared face to face with the groggy nation.

"A-Alfred," England whispered, not believing what he was seeing. Before England could speak up and call the doctors over, America wrapped his arm around England.

"Arthur," he breathed and pulled the smaller nation closer. "Why did you stop?" America gazed up at England, his mouth open, a cocky smile gracing his features. But then an almost bashful look overcame America. "Arthur... I-I lo-"

Before America could stutter another syllable England's lips crashed down on his. Grabbing handfuls of the golden hair, England pulled closer to him. America's broad hands snaked around England's waist and lifted him onto the bed. They continued their nonverbal conversation, England didn't feel like anything was real. All he could focus on was the nation below him.

England put both hands on both sides of the bed and hovered over America. His tears hadn't fully dried and America brushed them away with his thumb.

"I-I thought you were dead," England sobbed. "I thought I lost you."

"Come on, you know heros don't die," he laughed as he played with his glasses.

England blinked once, then twice. Tears returned to bead the corners of his eyes and dread took place in his heart.

"Arthur? What's wrong," America tried to hug him closer again, but England pushed away. "Arthur..."

Everything was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong! The fact that America was magically wearing glasses had shown England the strange happenings. How all the IVs and monitor clips had disappeared, how the small hospital bed had suddenly been able to hold two grown men, how America hadn't said any American terms and had called England by his full name only. (Not that England didn't minded. It wasn't like he actually LIKED that stupid nickname.) But it all lead England to one horrible conclusion.

He was dreaming.

"Arthur," 'America' pleaded, the dream trying to pull England back.

He was dreaming and if he was dreaming, then America wasn't awake. Alfred was still asleep. The tears dropped down England's face and soaked into the bed sheets while the dream around him crumbled.

It all had been a dream, an amazing wonderful dream. Or at least that is what it had seemed like. Now that England knew that it was a dream and America was still in danger, now it was a cruel nightmare. A cruel, beautiful nightmare.

England's eyes cracked open, the real world greeting him with sounds of beeping and hushed murmurs of nurses. He was still in the small chair next to a sleeping America. Still sleeping... England sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Then he settled down and dozed off once again.

**So... Yeah. This isn't one of my favorite chapters, but at least I got it done. Another chapter shouldn't take as long as this one did... A new semester is starting so I should have more time. Thanks for reading! **


	5. Chapter 5: Dream of a Memory

**I got another chapter done...And it's long so that's good. This one is kind of like a dream/memory chapter, though it has a purpose! **

**Thank you everyone who reviewed! I loveds you all! And I'm so happy I got complimented on my word choice! Thank you so much! I really try to work on growing my vocabulary so it really made my day! Thanks Italian Pasta Lover!**

**When I get reviews, I am happy. When I'm happy, I like to write! It all works out!**

**I do not own Hetalia! D:**

America felt suffocated, blurry thoughts raced through his mind. Did he hear Matti's voice? Was that a doctor? Was he even alive?

All America could see, feel, hear... It was all darkness. And it hurt. Like a monster was gripping his insides and slowly raking them over a fire. He wanted to scream, to beg for relief. But the darkness wouldn't let him.

America wouldn't let the darkness win. He began distracting tortured mind with memories. Snow days with Matti, video games with Japan, video games with Tony, trying to teach England to play video games... Huh, he played video games a lot... Maybe too much? Naw!

"Come on, wake up," America heard the accented voice through the darkness. A small glimmer of hope... Who did that belong to again...

America was once again lost in a haze of memories and dreams. Faces and names blurring together.

England... That's who the voice belonged to... How could've he forgotten that?

The pain returned once more. He wanted to cry for help, to let someone know that the hero needed a life line.

"Alfred, come on," the voice whimpered. That small hope was back, it was even shining in the dark.

America wanted to grab it, to hold tight to it. He had never been even remotely sick, so this was an entirely new experience for him... And he hated it. He remembered the one and only time he had gotten close to being sick... Maybe he would try to remember that day.

_"So Engwand's gonna stay right?" A tiny America cuddled under the thick quilt. The only thing thicker than the blanket was his guardian's eyebrows, America concluded._

_"Yes, of course, America. Now use proper English, 'I am __going to __stay.' Gentlemen always use proper grammar," England chided gently as he sat at the edge of America's bed._

_"Yes Engwand," America muttered, hiding a small smile. _

_He did it! America really did it! The small boy had hatched up his little scheme only a weekend ago, but it was really working!_

_"I don't know why your fever hasn't gone down yet," England glanced at the outdated thermometer, a worried frown etched across his face. "You don't look sick, but your fever is still rampant." He placed a cool hand on the little forehead. "You're burning up! Maybe I should find a doctor, I believe the kind, elderly man that I met a few days ago is a doctor. A journey to his home would only take half an hour or so." _

_"No!" The little nation almost tumbled out of the bed. "I'm really sick! I need you to stay! My tummy hurts and everything." He clutched to England's dress shirt. "It hurts Engwand and only you can make it better." He crawled into the man's lap and gave him big, blue puppy eyes, a skill he had only become aware of._

_"Shush poppet, I won't leave you in this state. The butler will be with you, I promise I will have returned within the hour." He brushed the soft hair which was surprisingly not soaked with sweat. Anyone who held a fever as high as America's should've have been sweating by the gallons._

_"No! What happens if I die?! I don't wanna keel over!" America toddled on his stout legs, throwing his stubby fingers wide as if to make his point more dramatic._

_"E-Excuse me?!" England didn't know what was more appalling: America's silly idea of death or the certain death of English language in that last statement. Keel over? Wanna? England was going to have a talk with the butler..._

_Wobbly from standing on the springed bed, he stumbled over the edge of his bed. England caught him before he fully slipped off the bed. Somehow the rest of his small frame felt normal, not overheated in the slightest. A small seed of doubt planted itself in England's mind, but he ignored it. His sweet little America would not lie about anything. He tucked his America under the quilt once more._

_"Let me bring you a fresh rag," England stood to retrieve the item, but a strong grip held onto the corner of his sleeve. Turning around he saw that America was the said perpetrator. "Now, I'm not going anywhere. Just to the washroom, it's not even two rooms away."_

_"B-But I don't need a rag, I bet it'll be fine," America stuck his bottom lip out and a small quiver trembled._

_"What happened to your impending death?" Suspicions slowly rooted in England's mind._

_"I think I'm getting better," America said shakily. "I just need you to stay with me, Engwand." He stuck out his pout a little farther._

_"A-Alfred," England tried not to look at the boy square in the eye, or his resolve would melt in an instance._

_Two could play this game. England quickly set up his mental America-Cuteness-Defying-Sheild (a new mental defense he had to invent after meeting the boy, it was just as important as the Don't-Kill-France-He-Can't-Help-Being-A-Frog-Sheild and the You-Can-Handle-One-More-Bowl-Of-Pasta-Sheild)_

_"Well this is interesting," he placed his hand upon America once more. "You don't seem as warm anymore. Maybe you are getting better." America actually was much cooler than he had been a few moments ago. "Maybe I can make it back in time after all," he mused in a relaxed tone._

_America paled. "No! I feel a lot worse! You should get the rag!" The boy nodded vigorously, England could barely keep up with the rapid movements. _

_England loudly romped out of the room. He came to stop outside of the room, but continued to stomp on the wooden floors. Eventually he quieted the over the top stomps, hoping America truly believed he was in another room._

_He poked his head around the corner of America's bedroom door. Sure enough his suspicions were confirmed as he spied on the 'sick' child. America had his face pressed to the side of the small heater in his room, quickly trying to reheat his face. He had to be burning half his face off! The only thing keeping England from rushing in and saving America from his childish actions was his duty as guardian. America couldn't lie to him!_

_He once again stomped like a drunkard, hoping his floorboards could handle the ordeal. America silently rushed back to his bed, a pout once again present._

_"So sorry America. It seems that our rags have disappeared," England lied._

_"It's okay. I think I can manage," America smiled sweetly while giving England an adorable look._

_England would give it to America, he knew how to act._

_"Well it's just so strange," England hummed and tapped the tip of his chin. "This reminds me of an old story... Maybe it's... No, never mind," he clucked, trying to entice America._

_"What is it," America perked slightly. His own curiosity was giving him away._

_"I don't know America. You are awfully sick and this story isn't for the faint of heart," England raised n eyebrow slyly, waiting for America to take the oh-so obvious bait._

_"I-I can handle it, I'm going to be a gentlemen-hero like you when I'm older," America was sitting straight up, the quilt falling off his shoulders. "I pwomise I won't cry or nothing," he said determinedly, little fists balled tight._

_England smiled at his success. "Well, then. I have no choice, but to comply. There is an old wives tale about a ghost who eats children."_

_"A g-g-ghost?" England could almost hear the pit pattering of America's little heart._

_"Yes, a truly terrifying old hag of a ghost. She steals rags from houses to cover her ugly face. Perhaps she paid a visit to this lovely home." _

_"And she eats children?!" America squeaked and if this wasn't for America's sake, England would've stopped then and there. But England buckled down. He had to teach America a lesson!_

_"Yes, but don't worry. Her diet is very specific and it doesn't relate to you at all."_

_"W-What is it?" America's fists were now white from gripping so tightly. "What kind of children does she eat?"_

_"You see," England was ready to catch America in his lie. "She had a young son who died suddenly of illness. She takes it so seriously, being the mournful mother she is, she eats any children that lie about falling ill."_

_America let out a small noise, something between a squeal and a shriek._

_"But we don't have to worry about that! Right America?" England smiled sweetly at the petrified boy. "America?" ... "Alfred? Right? You wouldn't lie to me?"_

_As England expected the boy did freeze in fear, but he had also predicted that America would tell England his little fib and apologize. He was also right about that, but he was surprised at what the little nation did next._

_"E-Engwand?" His voice raised a few notches._

_"Yes America? Is there something you want to tell me?" England felt a mixed jumble of emotions, smug that he had taught America a valuable lesson, but surprisingly guilty. He had scared many of his colonies with this tactic... What made this tiny nation so different in his eyes._

_"I-I'm sorry! I lied about being sick!" America was on the verge of crying. The children eating hag was coming for him after all!_

_England was about to comfort the terrified toddler, telling him it was all not true, but America's hands caught him off guard. Strong for being such a small boy, he pushed England out of the bed and out of the room. England turned around just in time to see the solid oak door slam in his face._

_"A-America? What are you doing? Come out this minute," he yelled, not entirely sure of what had just transpired._

_"No! Save yourself Engwand!" The voice was muffeled, but England knew the sound of America's fear._

_"Excuse me? Open this door young man!" England waited a moment, but the sound of something large startled him. "Just what the hell are you doing?!" _

_He turned the knob until the latch gave way. He was the bloody nation of England, of course a door knob was no match for him! England tried to push it in, but he couldn't even get his head fully in the room. He squeezed the side of his face to crack between door and wall. There was a bed blocking the door's path! A bed! America had blockaded the door with a fucking bed!_

_"Alfred F. Jones!" The entire house shook to very core of its base, the butler escaped to the garden for safe haven. "You better get out here this instance before matters become even worse!" Lying to him and now this!? What was running around in that empty cavity of a head?_

_"I know you're mad at me for lying, but you need to get outta here!" England saw the boy run across his room and throw open the closet door. _

_"What are you doing," England pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched America crawl amongst the toys and shoes scattered across the closet floor. "Alfred just come out here and talk to me."_

_"No! You gotta run Engwand. Save yourself," he closed the closet door and hugged his knees to his chest. "Save yourself!" _

_"America!" A muffled reply came from the closet, but England couldn't understand it._

_Taking matters into his own hands, England marched through the house, this time angrily cracking more than a few floorboards. He muttered under his breath all the way out of the house. He became even more angry as he trudged through the garden and passed the tomatoes plants (which a butler may or may not have been hiding behind). _

_He made his way to the window of America's room, luckily it hadn't been latched yet. He popped it open and it creaked as it swung free. The closet that America had burrowed into was facing the ever increasingly angry Brit. _

_He flung it open, the door all but flying from its hinges. His anger, which had once been ready to explode in such a fiery rage that even Scotland's hair would be put to shame, instantly vanished as he looked down at the sight before him._

_Watery, baby blue orbs gazed up at him, the only thing that challenged their size were the tears hanging on the tan cheeks._

_"Engwand?" America choked on the word as he stood up and tried to push the man once more. "You go to run!"_

_This time he was prepared as scooped the blond up. "Hush,"he tried to soothe. "I'm not that angry with you. Just tell me what possessed you to make you lie."_

_America wouldn't hold still. "No Engwand," he stated once again. "The ghost is coming!"_

_England looked at America in surprise. "Huh," England questioned in the most intelligent way possible._

_"The hag is gonna eat me 'cuz I lied! You need to go or she might want to eat you, too!" America continued to feebly fight against the older nation. "I don't want her to eat you! I love you and she can't eat you, it's my fault she's coming!"_

_England couldn't help himself. At first it started as a small chuckle. Then a burst of laughter. Soon it was an bridled uproar of laughs. His body shook with waves of laughter and he was finding it harder to stand with each giggle that escaped his mouth. Taking America down with, he ungraciously fell onto his behind, still holding the confused nation._

_"Engwand, she going to get us! Hide," he tried to prod the inexplicably amused man away. "I know," America figured out as England hugged him. "You must be hysterical with fear. D-Don't worry, I'll protect you. E-Even if it is a ghost," he promised while his voice shook. This only caused another fit of giggles for England._

_England took a few deep breaths, wiped the tears from his eyes, and pulled America out of the embrace._

_"You're a good kid, America," England smiled at the still wary boy. "Don't worry, the ghost isn't real." He set America down on the ground and wiped away the tears still clutching to the red-rimmed eyes._

_"N-Not real?" He glanced around the destroyed room, still watching the shadows for the ugly hag._

_"Yes, love," England brushed America's hair soothingly. He played with the gravity-defying strand that America had started calling Nantucket. "I just wanted to you to tell me why you lied. I didn't believe you would react that strongly, sorry." Hopefully this wouldn't dramatically scar America, England thought._

_America turned to look at England in awe. "You knew I was lying? Really?" His mouth slacked with surprise. "Wow, you're really smart!" He crawled into England's lap and England realized that America couldn't be considered a toddler anymore._

_"Now please tell me why you felt the need to feign illness, Alfred."_

_America looked down, his bangs hiding his tearful eyes. "I didn't want you to go," he mumbled and leaned into England's chest. "I don't like it when you leave, and I...," the last words got muffled out by England's shirt._

_"Don't mumble, I want to hear what you said," England laid his head on America's, trying to keep all the feelings of guilt and loneliness at bay._

_"I said I miss you," America said, he sniffed and wiped his eyes with his pajama sleeve. "You're mad at me, huh? Are you going to leave?" _

_England closed his eyes and gently pecked the top of America's head. "No, I'm not mad at you. I know how lonely it can be. I think I can manage another week or so."_

_America pulled away,"Really?!" A huge smile stretched across his face and he jumped up. "I promise to be really good! And I'll use proper grammar and everything!"_

_England brushed off his pants and stood up. "Well, it's getting late." He looked at the dissary that was once America's room. Then a quick glance at America showed that the fear of the cliché horror tale still hung around him. _

_"Well, this just won't do," England clucked. "I guess we will just have to share my bed tonight."_

_"Really!?" America jumped up, but then realized he acted too zealously. "I-I mean..."_

_England smiled and herded the tired child to the plush guest room._

_"You know you can move in with me, this can be your bed all the time," America yawned as he snuggled close to England. _

_"My country needs me," he laughed. "Now, you need to sleep. You had a rather eventful night."_

_"You'll fall asleep after me, right," America closed his eyes. "Not that it matters or anything..."_

_"Of course," England chuckled._

_"I'm glad you didn't get eaten by a ghost hag," America mumbled as he fell asleep._

The dream of a memory ended, leaving America stranded in the sea of darkness. Of course England had left for his country a few days later, leaving a heart broken American. But the warmth that America was feeling right now... It was almost glowing.

Combined with that faint spark of hope, America truly believed he might be able to find his way out!

Struggling, pain ever growing, America surged to the front of the darkness. Each passing moment was becoming even more painful, he would have to hurry. But he was almost there!

He could hear again! That was a good sign, he could hear beeps and whispers... He could smell... Ew, it smelled like medicine and old people. That met he wasn't dead (because if he was dead he would smell McDonalds and coffee because that's what heaven smells like).

Almost there! The darkness entangled itself within his chest, burning hotter that any fire he had ever touched. But it wasn't fighting a mere mortal! He was fighting the U.S. Of A!

With one final push, America's eyelids flew open... He saw a ceiling, not very climatic if you ask him.

But he turned to his left and saw the best scene ever. Even better than a kitten in a fast food bag.

England was curled in a chair, gently sleeping, but his hands were entwined with America's.

Without waking him, America whispered, "Hey, I woke up."

America would've loved to have believed that everything was going to be okay, but the burning still present in his chest had other plans.

**Dun dun dun... Oh by the way. Sorry for trolling everyone in the previous chapter. Bye!**


	6. Chapter 6: Before I Wake

**Here's another one! You can thank Michigan weather for this chapter, I didn't have school Tuesday or Thursday because of snow! And Monday was Martin Luther King Jr. Day, so...:D**

**Reviews! I must be a review hoarder or something! I love all of them, haha! Thank you all!**

**I really don't enjoy song fics that much, but I found lyrics and I couldn't resist using them, please tell me if it worked or not. I may or may not go in and edit some errors in previous chapters when I have time, so if it doesn't work well then I can change it. The song I used is "Before I Wake" by I Fight Dragons. Sorta obsessed with them right now.**

**So without further distraction, I give you all Chapter Six! (A little bit of Franada in it, if you squint hard enough. I don't know if I like Franada or RusCan more...)**

Warmth radiated throughout England's body, he hadn't slept in what seemed to be an eternity. Finally the treacherous dreams and amazing nightmares had subsided and left the exhausted Brit to a well deserved rest. However some insistent chatter kept trying to bring England back to the brink of consciousness.

"Ha! You worry too much, Matti! I'll be fine," a voice obniouxsly yelled. "I've made it this far."

Even though the level of noise was somewhat bothering, a small smile creeped to England's face.

"America, you need to at least wake you-know-who up," a less boisterous voice responded. "He's been waiting here for you to wake up."

"But he looks so cute," the loud voice whined childishly. "I don't wanna!"

England chuckled, sleep still too present in his mind to awake him to what he had been waiting for all along. He tried to burrow back into the warmth of his slumber.

"See! Look how adorable he is," the voice loudly proclaimed.

"Oh hon hon~ I see what our precious Amérique is doing," a third voice added.

The first voice laughed nervously. "W-Whaddya mean? I just don't want to disturb Iggy, that's all."

"Or maybe you're scared of facing a certain someone," the quiet voice said somewhat devilishly.

"Oh my sweet prodigy! I have taught you well." A ruckus broke out, a sound like a glomp and someone struggling.

"No fair! You guys are ganging up on me!"

"Well then you should wake up Engla- Ack! France, stop smothering me," the quiet voice was back. A loud slap rang out. "I bet England would defend you, eh?"

"Matthiue, you are so mean to me."

Okay, now this festive get together was grating on England's poor nerves. He had to get rest before America woke up... Wait. That first voice, it had an American accent.

"You guys are so weird," the American accented voice laughed.

That laugh... England was getting closer and closer to being awake. His eyelids fluttered. It couldn't be that America was already...

"Oh! Look what you did Alfred. England's waking up," one of the less important voices pointed out.

Alfred... He called the voice Alfred. Which means... Alfred was awake?

America was awake! And England was the one asleep?!

"AMERICA!" England bolted straight up, hair frizzed like a madman.

A wide eyed American, Frenchman, and Canadian all stared back at once peacefully sleeping Brit. Then America smiled a huge, foolish smile. It was the best thing England had seen in a long while.

"America," England breathed, not sure if this was another dream or not. The fact that France and What's-His-Face were there most likely meant it wasn't though.

"Iggy! You're awake," America grinned like a dork.

England reached for the younger nation and buried his face in America's shoulder. "I should be the one saying that, you twat." He inhaled, America smelled like medicine, but he was alive. That was all that mattered. England let out a contented sigh.

"Um we're just going to give you guys some privacy," Canada stood and grabbed France by the arm. "C'mon."

"Non! I want to stay and see what happens," France cried as Canada dragged him away.

Before the duo left, Canada turned around, a slightly concerned look on his face. "America... I...," he struggled to find the right words. "Be safe, okay?"

France also quit fighting against the petite man,"You've been a good friend, mon ami."

America stared back at both of them, England perplexed. "I'll be fine." The two simply looked at him. "I promise." He laughed lightly and both shuffled out of the room, leaving America and England alone.

England had to ask, "America, are you oka-" Strong hands gripped his shoulders and America got eye level with England.

"So?" England blinked, not sure of what to make of the sudden conversation change.

"So what," the British man asked warily.

"So what's your response," America was clearly excited about something. "I mean you showed up so that's good. But I want to hear you say it." He gave England a supportive smile, his whole body practically bouncing in anticipation.

"What the bloody hell are spouting nonsense about?" England immediately regretted saying that as America's face fell.

He pulled away, a confused look playing across his features. "Y-You know... That, um, thing... That SUPER important thing I told you?" England just stared at him, dumbfounded. "You know, it was life changing?!"

England's eyes widened in remembrance. "Oh yeah," he snapped his fingers. "You wanted to tell me something! And I told you to wait." America felt dread creeping up on him. "So, what do you want to tell me?" He patiently waited, expectant as always. No one ever knew what America was going to say next.

"Well, um... Ya know," America stuttered. His heart monitor beeping sparatically. "I, well, I..." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. _OMG! I thought he knew!_ America was mentally freaking out. He had to gain the courage to confess to England again. Again! It was hard enough the first time! England wasn't the easiest person to confess to...

_I just need to calm down, Okay, deep breaths. You can do it, Ame- _

"I'm waiting," England called out in an almost snobbish tone. "I don't like being held up. Just spit out what you want to say." He hadn't been waiting for America to wake just to watch the stupid git stutter!

_Don't freak out. Just keep breathing and-_

"America!"

_Dammit_! "I love you, okay!?" America immediately clamped his hand over his mouth. He glanced at England, wondering how badly the Brit was going to chew him out. Was he going to yell? Was he going to try and kill America? Then a truly horrific idea came to him. Was he going to force America to eat England's cooking!? Anything but that!

But another glance at the man showed none of those options... He looked to be on the verge of tears.

_No, no, no. Anything but crying._ If England started crying, then America might just die from utter guiltiness. He would shovel ten... No, twenty. Even one hundred British meals down if it would keep England from crying.

Just as America was about to hide his feelings once more and say something along the lines of: Haha, you got me. I'm just joking! America felt something warm on his lips and looked down.

_I just- What!? I don't even..._ America's brain was more tangled up than his iPod headphones after being shoved in his pockets. England was kissing him. Him! On the lips and everything!

England pulled away, "Well kiss me, you idiot!"

America smiled and did exactly that.

Now on terms of actual kisses, it wasn't technically the best physical kiss. Mostly due to one of them being tied up with medical tubes and machines and the other still not as fully awake as he could be. But, even with all the complications, it was one of the most amazing kisses either one had ever experienced. The sheer fact that they had both been hiding from it for so long, and possibly craving for it for even longer.

Of course, they couldn't get too into it, America being bed ridden and all. Yet they still had to break for some much needed oxygen.

"So, what is your answer," America asked before pecking England's lips.

"I'm pretty sure my actions speak loud enough. Do you really need to hear it," he grumbled, irritated because talking was not what he wanted to be doing with his mouth right now.

"Mhm," America hummed, amused at England's annoyance.

"Fine," he growled, but smiled at the sincerity of the moment. "I love you, too. You sentimental idiot."

"England," America murmured in his ear, a happy feeling in his chest... Then the burning returned. He winced and tried to shrug it off. An action that did not go unnoticed to a certain Englishman. America leaned in for another quick kiss, but England pulled away.

"America," he glared at the younger man warily. He raised a bushy eyebrow, knowing America didn't need to hear the question England so clearly wanted answered.

A doctor knocked on the door. He didn't want to interrupt whatever conversation the two men were having, but he needed to speak to the American.

"Oh, come in, dude!" America waved a beckoning hand, glad to have a distraction.

The balding man walked in briskly, trying not to show any weakness in front of the VIP patient. "Hello, Mr. America."

England gasped, an mix of shock and fear fighting to surface. "How does he know that," he asked with a shaky voice.

"It's cool, man. My boss flew in the best doctors, being the President and all," he placed a hand reassuringly on England's shoulder. "He made them sign some secret policy form or something."

"You are in the very best hands, sir." The doctor politely stood at the end of the bed, checking a chart. "Sorry to interrupt you, but we will be prepping you for surgery in about twenty minutes." He left, still astutely studying the various charts.

Once again America and England were left alone in complete and total silence. England's breaths became more ragged, almost to the point of hyperventilation.

"Surgery?" He tried to calm himself by pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "This isn't happening."

"It's okay Arthur," he rubbed England's back gently, hoping the man wouldn't freak out. But England was way pass "freaking out".

He swatted the hand away and ran his hands over his face. "You didn't think about telling me this sooner?!" He sat down, putting his elbows on his knees and hiding his face in his hands.

"There were more important things I wanted to say," America played with his hands. He really did not want to be having this conversation right now. "Truth be told, I was hoping you wouldn't wake up 'til I was already under."

"And that would be so much fucking better? Wouldn't it," England's voice cracked on the last word.

"I-I really didn't know how to bring it up," America's voice trailed off into a whisper, his hands idly sitting in his lap.

"I don't know, how about a 'Hey, England. I'm going in for FUCKING surgery!' or something along those lines," he spat out in a bitter tone. He glared up at America through his hands, water rimming the corner of his emerald eyes. "Why," he demanded.

"E-England."

"Why. Are. You. Going. In. For. Surgery." The blood shot nature to England's eyes made his green eyes stab mercilessly at America, accusing him with every glance. "Tell me," he growled.

"Ah, well. You know how we aren't normal people, not aging and stuff," he laughed weakly. "Well, apparently we heal faster than the average person."

"Even I could tell you that," England was suddenly queasy, not wanting to hear the rest.

"You remember seeing Ironman with me right?"

"You practically dragged me to it," England gave a small smile at the memory.

"You know how he sorta got shrapnel stuck in his chest?" He didn't give England time to answer. "When I got hit by that truck, some of the debris from the car's light or fender or something got lodged in my chest. Now they would've been able to get it out, but you know super healing and all kinda kept it inside me. And I even asked for the cool Ironman chest thingie 'cuz it doesn't exist and I'm totally more of a Captain America than Ironman," he blundered on.

All of England's anger vanished, dread settling in his stomach and it was not going to be leaving it's new home for a while. "Please tell me it's going to be quick surgery."

One quick look at England's terror-stricken face and America was backpedalling. "Um, well," he gave a weak chuckle. "It should be fine, but..."

"But what," England's voice quivered, on the verge of the breaking point.

"But, I heal fast and the doctors don't know if they'll be able to do surgery fast enough before... Before my body does its thing." He looked away from England, a hero couldn't show his fears. Especially to the one he loved, he had to protect England no matter what was happening to him. "Healing in the middle of surgery isn't exactly the best thing that can happen. But the doc is hopeful it can be done, so..."

"Hopeful," England chewed on the word, hating every letter in it. Hopeful?! No, they had to be sure!

America read the anger seething off of England. "Trying is better than just dying..." He cupped England's face in his hands. "I promise to try my hardest to live. Because I love you. I love you, Arthur. You need to remember that."

"And I love you, too. We already went over this," he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth from America's hands. "You're the only person who can make me so crazily confident one minute, then so foolishly incompetent the next."

"_Tomorrow everything will change. Today will never seem the same_," America sang a simple tune, England relishing in his soothing voice. "_So I will try to find a way, to say everything I need to say._"

"What are you doing," he breathed.

"Singing, now shut up and let me finish." He took a breath and continued. "_And if I should die before I wake. Remember everything we said today._"

England frowned,"I'm not sure I like that ending. What song is that, I certainly never heard of it."

"Now's not the time to talk about how hipster I am," America tilted England's face up, he opened his eyes. "I just want you to remember everything I said here and now. Just in case."

"Alfred, you're not going to die," England tried to give his most menacing glare, but only managed a watery grimace.

"Arthur Kirkland, I, Alfred F. Jones, am in love with you," he smiled. "And I promise to try my hardest to wake up and stay alive." He went to kiss England, but a pale finger stopped him.

"And I, Arthur Kirkland, am in love with you, Alfred F. Jones. I promise to wait out in the waiting room for you until you keep your end of the deal. Deal?"

"Deal," America said before kissing England once more.

"Ahem," the doctor coughed. "Mr. America, it is time for your surgery."

**Whoo! Got another one down! Everyone should totally go listen to I Fight Dragons and their awesome song "Before I Wake" Go! Just do it! :D **


	7. Chapter 7: Screams

**I'm alive! Woohoo! I have only a chapter or two left after this, but they're going to be a little late. But I have a good reason, I swear! I'm in the school musical, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolored Dream Coat. I've been at school for a really long time so... This will take awhile.**

**I would like to thank people for pointing out any mistakes I've made. I can only learn if someone tells me! :D (I know there are typos littered throughout this whole thing... Chalk it up to me rushing and typing it on a dysfunctional iPad.) I'll fix them soon. (I changed the word bloke to idiot... Hopefully that works.)**

**I have a few other Hetalia couples I want to write stories on. A few more USUK fics, a Spamano fic, and a Giripan...Maybe a Franada or RusCan fic too. **

**How mad would you readers be if I had to add a CHARACTER DEATH warning on this fic? I really love happy endings, but I'm toying with the idea. Review and tell me what you think! **

England didn't know what to do with himself. After he watched the hospital bed roll away through the steel, cold doors, a numbing sensation seeped from within his chest and engulfed him in its unfeeling hold. After a moment he mentally willed his feet to shuffle into the hallway.

At the end of the hall America was saying a few words to a tearful Canada, France behind him with a comforting hand on the Canadian's shoulder. The entourage of doctors and nurses once again began to push America away, but England heard a loud, "See you soon, bros!" followed with a lighthearted laugh. Then the American was gone, the end of the journey stopping in the surgery room. And England didn't want to imagine what was happening beyond those doors.

"Arthur," France and Canada both gave a small smile, but their watery gazes mirrored England's. France once again spoke up, "Come, we'll wait for him together."

For once England had no qualm following his frenemy, thankful to have someone leading him because at the moment his mind was a complete blank. If he dared to think, to even feel any of the emotions he was boxing up, they might all come crashing down on him.

France stopped as they entered the large waiting room, England had to abruptly stop in order not to crash into the nation's back. England's eyes widened as he looked around the crowded space.

It seemed that at least half of the world was currently present. And they were all behaving for the most part, too!

"Wha-," England gasped, momentarily surprised out of his stupor.

"We're all here for America-san," Japan said politely, worry flickering across his face.

A few other nations voiced their reasons for coming, some stating it was for business and others claiming they had no clue how they ended up there. But England knew the true reason everyone had crammed into the waiting room, it was a reason only few might say out loud. And that answer was simply: America. Some way or another America was someone people just generally liked, even if it was a begrudgingly resentful 'like'. How any of the nations looked at it, World Meetings wouldn't be the same without any of them, epescially one certain loud mouth that was currently fighting for his life on a surgery table.

"Sit," France commanded, directing England towards an empty chair next to Japan. "Relax, the doctors said they have a nurse who will keep us posted. Don't fret."

Mindless, England leaned into the stiff fabric, a heavy mood weighing the Englishman down. Honestly, he wasn't a weak man; he was a nation after all! But all the events that had transpired in the last few days had torn him down in more ways than he had ever known. England had fought in his fair share of wars, numerous ships sunk by his fleet, many men's lives ended by his sword. These were all things he could handle.

But sitting in a stiff chair waiting to see if America was alive? Impossible. England would gladly wage however many battles it took if it meant America's well being. Except all he could do was sit and wait, nothing was under England's control.

"Arthur," Japan watched his friend's inner turmoil, too concerned to remember to attach the proper suffix.

"Not now Kiku," England placed his elbows on his knees and gripped his shoulders, trying to crouch away from anything that reminded him of America in the slightest.

"I understand," the ravenhaired man said. "We all wish for America-san's safe recovery."

England's grip tightened. Japan hadn't tried to irritate England with that last comment, in fact he was trying to do the exact opposite; calm him. But England felt an angry fire rise in his chest. It took every ounce of his will to keep from screaming at his friend. He didn't understand, Japan didn't understand at all!

"That's a lie," England's voice rasped with raw aggression.

Japan's shock momentarily played on his face, "E-Excuse me." Japan actually sounded hurt. "E-Engla-"

"Just stop," he growled. "You may be worried about America, but you don't understand what I feel. You don't understand at all!" Japan opened his mouth to retort, but England kept going, his voice never rising from a whisper. "You don't know what it's like, the person most precious to you isn't in peril." Poison dripped from his words as he accused, "Greece is sitting right next to you."

Japan felt his gaze slowly shift to Greece. He watched the man mumble something about being too stressed to sleep. An unrational fear bubbled in the small nation's chest as he replaced America with Greece. Greece noticed the worry on his friend's face. "It'll be okay, Kiku." He gave the Japanese man a friendly smile.

Japan returned the smile and turned back to England. "I'm sorry," he muttered and left it at that. England and Japan sat in companionable silence as the world continued around them.

After thirty minutes, the waiting room had settled down. Greece had finally managed to find some sleep (using his favorite Japanese friend as a pillow), a few nations had to leave due to political emergencies, and others had found distraction in month old magazines. Besides some hushed conversations and the occasional cuss word from Romano, it was quiet. England felt slightly more relaxed and less fearful. He was actually thinking everything would be okay.

He had never been so wrong in his entire existence. The operating room was a few rooms away, but the scream that erupted from it made it sound as if it was only a few steps away.

A scream resounded through waiting room, a scream that no nation had heard before, but whoever it belonged to was in a great deal of pain. And even though none of the nations had ever heard such a scream, they all knew who it was. Another scream followed, this one even louder and more painful.

Then silence.

A few nations looked at each other, wide eyed and pale. Italy hugged to Germany, trembling as he spoke, "Germany, is that Ame-" He was cut off as another scream, this one weaker but still intense, emerged from the surgery room. Canada whimpered and hid his face in France's chest.

When the fourth scream erupted England shot up. "He's in pain," England mumbled. "They're hurting America." He took a slow step towards the room where his American was hurting. Yet another scream came and England tried to run, to stop the pain that Alfred was in.

Japan and Greece caught England, each restraining him from foolishly running in on the operation. With each new scream, England fought against the two even harder.

"Arthur," Japan frantically tried to calm his friend's panicked motions. "Please stop!"

"They're hurting him," England fought harder against his friends. "Americas in pain!" When yet another scream sounded England knocked Japan away, trying to save his America. Greece still had a strong hold on the man, a few more nations assisted in restraining England. "America," England's voice cracked, he fought even harder. No one was going to keep him from protecting America. Another scream tore through the room, effectively tearing through England's heart as well. "America!" In a fit of hysterical rage, he momentarily broke away from his friends, blindly progressing towards the operating room.

The nations quickly caught him once again, dragging the screaming man towards the back of the room. It now took a small crowd to contain England, tears and sobs wretched through his body. "ALRED!" He screamed as he got farther away from the one person he wanted to protect at the moment.

"Ve~ Germany," Italy wandered hesitantly to the German who had his hands full being one of the numerous people who was trying to control England.

"I'm a little busy at the moment," he grunted as he dodged a sparatic punch from England. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to say that America must be feeling better." The Italian gave a small smile.

Even England stopped fighting his oppressors at Italy's words.

"W-What makes you say that," Germany questioned uneasily.

Italy just smiled wider,"Well he stopped screaming. That's good, right?"

Everyone froze, listening to see if the Italian's words rang true. And they did. The pained screams had ceased and left everyone hearing an eerie silence. England felt the blood leave his face, he began to tremble and the pounding of his heart drummed in his ears.

A nurse appeared from behind a waiting room door. "I just got a note from one of the surgeons. Um, apparently the patient woke up during the surgery."

England inhaled sharply, but he felt as if he was choking. Alfred had woken while he was being operated on!? While he was being cut up? That was the only reason Alfred would've screamed like that. Those screams... They kept replaying in England's mind, they echoed and chorused each other bring England close to another hysterical break down. He managed to stutter out one questioning word, "A-Alfred?"

"They had Mr. America properly restrained so he did not injure himself when he woke. They have him sedated once again and plan on the operation only being another twenty minutes or so." She smiled and scurried off.

England fell to his knees, hugging them close to his chest. Twenty minutes... He could wait that long to be reunited with America. He put on an emotionless facade, he just had to wait now. That was something he could do.

The other nations returned to their seats, also trying to shake off the shock of the moment. Some wandered off alone, but Canada clung to France. France stroked the crying twin, not finding any other way to ease the sobbing nation's fear.

"He can't die, Francis. He can't," he held closer to France. "I know we don't always get along, but he's my brother. I-I-" his voice cracked and went into hushed cries.

"I know," France pressed his lips to Canada's forehead. "It will be all right." Canada continued to cry and France held him tighter.

France felt completely and utterly helpless. He was holding a tearful Matthew not being able to console him. To make matters even more depressing his best friend was currently sitting in a ball on the floor, a blank glassy stare overcoming his puffy face. Of course he knew America's situation. He clenched his teeth. If America died there was going to be a lot of broken pieces to pick up. And France couldn't be responsible for picking them up. Why? Because some of those broken pieces would be his.

Twenty minutes passed and England waited eagerly. He expected America to bound through the door, laughing his ass off about some unknown joke. After another ten minutes worry planted itself in England's mind. But he pushed it aside, of course it would take a little longer, it was surgery after all. Another twenty minutes passed and worry was breaking through England's mask.

Cue the nurse to return. She blinked in surprise, "What are you all still doing in here? The patients been in room 21A for about thirty minutes now."

Canada and England rushed out of the room, the other nations too scared to get in their way. Canada rounded the corner first, room 21A came into view. The first doctor they met, the one who had taken America away, stood in the door.

"Mr. E-England," he looked slightly surprised to see the man.

"Why didn't you tell us America was here," England bellowed, his voice shook the base of the hospital.

"W-We wanted him to wake from the sedation first, but now... " The doctor rattled on nervously. "But now...Now that he's gone-" Canada brushed by and into the room where America supposedly was.

"What do you mean 'gone'?" England refused to believe it. "What do you mean?!"

Before the doctor had a chance to answer, the mournful cry of Canada. England rushed by the paling doctor.

"Mr. England, I can explain," the doctor cried.

But his words fell on deaf ears. England's worst nightmares had come true. There he stood in the sterile room, Canada openly crying next to him. What caused all of this? The bed that was said to be America's was empty.

America was gone and there was nothing England could do except cry. So he cried.

**Review of you want America to live! :D *evil laugh***


	8. Chapter 8: Awesome Prussia to the Rescue

**Chapter eight is up! :D I've been spending so much time at school that this chapter is a little rushed. Luckily I only have about a week before our show starts, so I'll finally have some time left to work on this.**

**There is some side pairings throughout this chapter, like Franada PrusAus and a smidge of GerIta. Hope it doesn't take away from the story...**

**Everyone's reviews were awesome, they made me like I was holding ransom or something. Sorry for putting all through that, but the power! It was awesome! :D Though I do feel slightly in danger... Some of the reviews got violent. Haha! **

**Well, enjoy this chapter.**

France watched the blur of blondes as Canada and England both ran to the room that supposedly held America. That stupid American nurse! How could she possibly be that dense?!

France brooded over these thoughts as he walked the path that Canada and England had taken. Of course England would refuse to leave and Canada would hang all over America, but France would prefer to see the heroic idiot as well. Hopefully their little makeshift family would be whole once more.

France had been keeping a slow walk, but when the mournful cry of Canada reached his ears, he broke out into a sprint. He flew into the room, Canada stood in the middle of the room, tears already welling in his eyes. His eyes were fixated on an empty bed.

France pushed away the sad pang in his heart, he had a nation to console. When he took a tentative step towards the young man, he tripped. Even though he was bewildered, France stood and ran to his Canadian, not bothering to seek out the cause of his tumble.

Blankly staring, emerald eyes glazed over, England sat in the corner of the room. Too wrapped up in his own misery to even notice France colliding with him. To put it simply, his world was ending. As he stared at the bed that once once held his America, he felt as if he had gained everything he could have ever hoped for and lost it within the same day. After the initial shock of all that had transpired, England had unknowingly sunk to his knees while silent tears cascaded to the floor below. It was hard enough for him to even breathe, let alone stand.

Stiffly, he gathered his surroundings. It took a few moments, but his body began obeying his mind. He turned his head, not wanting to look at that accursed bed anymore. It was a horrible decision on his part. The small amount of air his lungs had managed to contain escaped with the force of someone punching him in the stomach.

In front of him, more mocking than the bed, was Canada and France. The young nation currently was buried in France's chest, each new sob from his mouth racking both their bodies in one unified motion. France had both arms wrapped securely around him, trying to ward off any sorrow that was attacking Canada. He muttered comforting words in the Canadian's ear, his own eyes blinking back tears.

But a jealous hatred simmered in the back of England's mind. He knew that the Frenchman was hurting, but there was something else. Something France might not yet be aware of in himself. Somewhere, in a small corner of France's mind, he was thankful. Thankful that he was holding the crying man in his arms, thankful that the twin who had died was not Canada. Even though Canada was openly weeping, thinking every kind of sadness, he was alive. The nation France had raised from a child and grew to fall in love with was still in his arms.

But what happened to England's young blond nation that _he_ had raised? The one _he _had fallen in love with? He was dead.

* * *

Germany and the rest of the nations heard the first of Canada's lament, his cries and sobs traveling down the silent halls. With each new cry, dread entered every nation's body, shivering up their spines and curling their toes.

"Ve~ Germany," Italy turned a tearful gaze towards the blond. "What do we do now?"

Germany was at a loss for words. Never in his life had he read any manuals or books on how to go about a situation such as this.

"We should go comfort him," a voice Germany was not expecting said.

He turned to meet a red-eyed gaze, white hair matching the albino skin.

"Bruder," Germany whispered, Canada's sorrow filled cries over his lost brother holding a new meaning.

The red eyes responded with a look of understanding. "Matthew is gonna need us in this unaweso- Er, dark period of his life." He tried not to resort to his usual catchphrase, the word not matching the serious mood. "Bruder, he is mein friend and I want to comfort him." He signaled for the German to follow him.

"Ja," Germany followed, feeling more in control now that he had a purpose.

He almost turned to see if Italy wanted to visit, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Romano and Italy in rare, unviolent conversation. On further inspection, as the German and Prussian left the room, Germany noticed many nations gathering close to family members and lovers. With one last thankful glance at Italy, Germany left the room.

Outside the hallway stood a very confused doctor, worriedly wring his hands. He fretted outside the door way, as if he wanted to go in and tell the mourning party something.

"Hey you," Prussia called. "What are you doing?" This man was in the way of comforting his best friend.

"A-Ah, Mr. Germany and Mr. Um..." The doctor stuttered as he look at Prussia.

"Prussia, the awesome one, duh," Prussia growled. "Now what happened?"

"Well, uh, I told Mr. England and company that America was gone." His eyes darted nervously back and forth as if he had made a mistake.

"So America's really dead," Prussia muttered as the news finally sank in.

German didn't trust the way this man worded the sentence. "What do you mean 'gone'?" He voiced his suspicions,"Is America really dead?"

The doctor stammered,"He did die."

* * *

Japan had left the waiting room after the nurse had come into let everyone know that America could be visited. Of course he was excited to see his boisterous friend, but there was an entire waiting list of nations that wanted into that room. Japan was patient man, he could wait. So he had decided to walk around the gift shop, stretch his legs and look for a possible gift for America.

They really didn't have any cards that stated: Hurray! You Survived Surgery Without Supernaturally Healing!

Japan chuckled to himself and looked through the various colored cards. In the end he picked out an oversized box of chocolates for the gluttonous American and a cute kitten doll for a certain sleeping man.

He went to the check out lane, but it was on the other side of the store. He had to traverse through the card station, the doll station, and the flowers before reaching the register.

The small Japanese manmade it through the doll and cards,but stopped in his tracks before the flower section. Flowers were nicely organized in colorful displays, but what caught Japan's eye was a certain American in a white hospital robe happily searching through the colored plants. A few other people in the store gave him a strange look, not fully understanding a patient being in the store.

America's blue eyes traveled a caught sight of the shocked Japanese. "Hey, Kiku!" At least he had enough common sense to use human names. "C'mere and help me!" His teeth flashed a healthy glint as he gave his trademark grin.

Against his better judgement, Japan felt his feet shuffling towards him.

"Dude, I can't decide between these roses or whatever the hell these things are." America shoved roses and some daisies in Japan's nose. He spent a few moments trying not to choke on the overdose of pollen and scents invading his senses.

"R-Roses," he finally managed to spit out, still not sure what was happening. "Roses are fine."

"Yeah, Arthur does seem like he might like those better." He hummed a tune while he put the other flowers back. "Just thought Arthur would like some apology or something. He was pretty pissed that I sorta left out surgery."

"Um," Japan looked quizzically at his friend. "Alfred-san, maybe you should go back to your room. You might be causing some confusion right now."

"Huh," America looked up as if he thinking about something. "Ha, I really didn't tell the doctor where I was going."

* * *

"He did die."

_Strange, I must've been wrong._ Germany had been sure that he was onto something.

"But," the doctor added on, almost as an afterthought. "He did die, but only for a few moments. He flatlined when the surgery first began, but he was quickly revived and was kept stable. He's just gone, and I don't know where to find him."

"MIEN GOTT!" Prussia shouted at the top of his lungs. "WHAT A COMPLETELY UNAWESOME WAY TO WORD THINGS!" With this statement, a pale fist shot out and punched the doctor square in the face.

"Prussia," Germany pinched the bridge of his nose as he stared at the now passed out doctor. "Don't you think you went over the top?"

"No! It was the perfect level of awesomeness!" Before his brother could criticize his behavior anymore, Prussia rushed into the room where Canada was crying. "Hey, the awesome me has some awesome news! America's alive!"

This successfully stopped the Canadian's crying, a spark of hope in his eyes. France also looked to the albino in happy surprise. The pair looked at Prussia waiting for him to elaborate, but England was still dully staring, not wanting his hopes to be risen once more. His soul had been crushed and stepped on, if this wasn't true, he would never be able to live through it. He turned slightly to the albino, but he was not listening as Prussia explained everything.

"Yeah, so basically the unawesome doctor was just stupid." Prussia laughed, glad that he had gotten his friend to stop crying.

"Uh, Prussia," Germany stood in the doorway. "You might want to see this."

"Not right now," he replied flippantly. "I'm being awesome right now."

"Well, where is he now," France inquired, wanting to see the American.

"Kesese," he chuckled nervously. "That is something the awesome me does not know... But I bet we might find him the the food cour-" He was cut off as he and Germany were bulled over by a frantic American.

"GUYS DON'T FREAK OUT! I AM TOTALLY ALIVE!" He pulled Canada out of France's arms and gave him a huge bear hug. "GERMANY EXPLAINED EVERYTHING TO ME! I'M SO SORRY DUDES!"

Canada shrugged out of America's grasp,"Why are you shouting. This is a hospital." He said it a sternly as possible, but the joy on his face was transparent through his broad grin.

"WHA- Er, sorry," he laughed and scratched his cheek sheepishly.

"Mon ami, it's good to see you," France clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You had us all worried for a moment." Then as a more perverted place took its place on France's face. "You had poor Arthur most worried. He might reward you for returning to us. Ohonhon~"

"Yeah..." he smiled at the two nations. "Um, speaking of that, could you guys give me and Artie a minute?"

"Of course,"Canada pulled his brother into one more hug. "Just don't run off again." He tried to pull France to follow him.

"But I want to see what happens," he whined.

"My God Francis, not again!" He tried to pull the nation out of the way.

"No I want to stay!"

A devilish smirk showed on the Canadian's face. "I swear to God and anyone watching, if you don't follow me out of this room. I will go out there and flirt with Prussia." He stomped out the room, slamming the door.

France quickly ran through his two options: see his two friends finally get together or let Prussia have his hands all over his Canada. Hopefully Spain would be able to protect Canada for a little while.

"Just to let ya know, Matti can be freakishly assertive when he wants to be," America offered, hoping to entice the Frenchman out of the room.

Something in France seemed to snap, he quickly rushed out of the room. But not before saying,"Just remember Alfred, the bed is too small for both of you. The table is much more stable!"

America finally faced the person he had be wanting to see, a man who had not moved a muscle since America had burst in the door. A man whose emerald eyes stared widely at America, not quite believing what was right in front of them.

"Hey Arthur," America said tentavitly. "I'm sorry about that. Here, I got you some flowers." He tried to hand the somewhat crinkled store-bought roses to England, but he just gazed up at America.

Finally, his mouth opened and sucked in a small breath. With a timid voice, he whispered,"A-America?"

**Yay! I'm almost done! A chapter or two are left, but I'm finally getting there. It's going to be a while longer though... I'm spending over twelve hours at school. Ew...**


	9. Chapter 9: A Rather Rude Reunion

**I'm still alive! The torturing long school hours are over, prom is over, and I got through AP Calc exams. Now that I've gotten a good night's sleep, I finally got around to finishing it. **

**Oh my goodness, thank you ThatRandomReview! I forgot to change the categories. If anyone can't tell, this wasn't supposed to go on this long. Originally this was a two or three chapter story. America was going to be stupid, end up in the hospital, get yelled at by England, and overall just be a humorous little piece. But my imagination sorta distracted me and this whole plot came together... And it had more drama than previously intended. **

**But I'm really happy, beside some little errors I need to change and a few cheesy moments that I could not keep from writing, I am proud that this is my first yaoi piece. Though I had to write my first 'make out' scene and I really need to work on that...:/**

**Since my online class is a bore, I tend to daydream and space out (don't worry I still have an A in the class!). I have thought up two more possible USUK plots, and a few other non-Hetalia fanfictions. So I might be uploading another story soon. Depends on my motivation and how lazy I feel... Haha.**

**I don't own Hetalia (and I totally do not keep forgetting this disclaimer...)**

** Anywhoo! Enjoy the latest installment of A Hospitalized Hero!**

"A-America?" England could not keep the tremor from his voice.

America gave a nervous chuckle, the flowers still in his grasp. England was in a state of confusion, not sure of what he should do next. The American read the confused emerald gaze and put his arm back down, the rose hung limply at his side.

America swallowed dryly, England wasn't going to be talking anytime soon, that was for sure. America bounced from foot to foot, the silence (for lack of a better word) killing him. He wanted nothing more than to reach over and touch England, to press his lips to the elder's and apologize for causing him any grief. But most of all he just wanted England to say something.

"I'm really sorry England," America tilted his head down, blue cerulean eyes pleading for the shorter man. He tried to give his trademark 'puppy-dog' eyes, hoping it would help England out of his stupor.

And it did. Happily America watched England as he finally came to accept the fact that America was very much alive and not dead. He watched all the emotions that played across the Brit's pale face in a few short seconds: happiness, relief, love, anger... Anger?!

Before the American could register what was happening, he was on the ground, pain welling between his legs. He gasped as realization, and more pain, hit him. Sure he was expecting England might slap him or something, but a shot at Florida!? That's not cool man!

America rolled on his back, hands creating a barrier to protect Florida from England's demonic foot. He tried to find England, which was very difficult considering America was shuffling around on a hospital floor with his hands cupped around his crotch. He managed to find his voice, "Oh, God Arthur. Why would you do that?!" He rolled over once more, he finally found a way he could see the red-faced British man.

"Why would I do that? Why would I do that!?" His voice grew in volume, the sheer amount of force causing every object in a ten mile radius to shake. "Why the fuck would I not do that?! That's the real question! You can't just wander willy nilly, you git! You are fucking injured! For fuck sake, you just got out of FUCKING SURGERY! And on top of that you had everyone believing you dead! FUCKING DEAD!" His breathing grew labored, almost to the point of hyperventilation, his eyes dangerously close to tearing up. Every breath he took brought America more onslaughts of cuss words and accusations.

"Dude, technically it was that doc's fault about my so called death," and it was true, Germany was trying to get the doctor fired as they spoke. "And as you can see, I'm totally not dead yet." America's pain seemed to be ebbing down, he tried to sit up slowly.

"I don't care about technicalities, you are the one who jumped in front of a truck and _you_ were the one who got injured. _YOU_ were the one who had to go in for surgery. AND YOU WERE THE ONE WHO SCARED ME HALF TO DEATH! DO YOU KNOW WHAT I JUST WENT THROUGH?! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" Tears pricked at the corner of the Englishman's eyes, so he screwed them shut and kept screaming. "FUCKING DEAD, ALFRED! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT I WENT THROUGH!? I-I-" A fresh wave of tears cascaded down the man's face, his body trembling with rage and fear.

All the power and anger in his voice moments ago were replaced by quiet sobs. "Alfred, I thought you were- Do you have any idea..." Thoughts and questions raced through his thin lips, sobs and tears interrupting the rush of words.

America rushed to his feet, England's pain more important than his long forgotten injury. "Hey, hey," he cupped England's face in his large hands, the shape of England's face fitting perfectly in the younger nation's touch. "It's okay, I'm here now. You can't get rid of me that easily." America gave a slight laugh, he sounded like some cheesy romantic comedy. But he didn't mind, as long as he and England could stay together until the end. "You're stuck with me," he laughed lightheartedly.

"Idiot, I wouldn't want it any other way," England pulled the taller nation close, breathing in deeply. He mostly smelled the stale scent of medicine, but that greasy, woody smell still hid under it. His tears stained the hospital gown, but he smiled nonetheless. He sighed, he was content staying like that for the rest of civilization.

Of course America had ruin it by opening his mouth. From the glint in the American's blue eyes, England knew he was going to say something stupid so he decided to silence him. Crashing his lips onto America's open mouth, the younger man was caught off guard, his words mumbled into England's hold on him. Due to desire, England was none too gentle. His tongue quickly found America's, taking dominance and twisting in ways England could have only learned during his punk phase.

With a moan America began catching up and reacting with equal fire. He tangled his finger's in the latter's hair, trying to close the minuscule distance between them. England took this gesture as a sign to push America on top of the bed, crouching to nip at the outer edge of America's neck.

America mumbled into England's ear, the warmth breath causing the shorter to shiver, momentarily losing his control. With ease America flipped their position, pinning England effectively to the hospital bed. As he pushed his body against England, he eyed the hospital table. There was no way he was taking France's advice, that would mean he and England would have to stop. And he was enjoying this too much.

"A-Ah, America," America turned his attention back to England. England tried to regain his composure, though it proved to be a challenge as America had them in a very compromising position.

Mentally, England groaned as his responsible side kicked in, he hadn't meant for this to go as far as it did. America had just awoken from surgery and traveled half the hospital. Sex, however much both wanted it, would probably not be the best thing for America. Stalling, he asked,"What were you saying earlier?"

"Mmm?" America's distracted hum sounded disappointed, upset England was using his mouth to talk. He gave an enthusiastic push on their bodies, hoping to steer their actions.

Suppressing a moan (and ignoring an uncomfortable stiffening in his pants) England continued his interrogation. "What did you say before I, um, distracted you?"

"Oh," a boisterous laugh resounded from America. "I was gonna say that maybe I should put on some pants." More blood rushed to England's face (and other places) as he saw the America was indeed still only wearing a hospital gown and nothing more. "Though," America pulled close the England and whispered, "I don't really think that's gonna be an issue anymore."

No matter how stupidly America could have stated anything at the moment, it would only make England want him more. But with a frustrated moan, England to hold of his desire and glared up at his American. America's face was flushed, cheeks pink and eyes desire filled, but there was a tired tug to them. His arms, which were holding down England's arms, were slightly trembling, worn from overexertion.

America was rash and lived in the moment, he wouldn't even notice his body's fatigue. So, England's responsible side kicked into overdrive. Removing a wrist from America's grasp, he placed a pale palm on the younger's chest and kept America from further progressing their actions.

"Aw, Artie," the blonde stuck his bottom lip out in a childish pout.

"No, you're a recovering patient. You need to heal," he pushed America away, still keeping his eyes above America's waist. "Go to bed."

"But I don't wanna!" As he was protesting, he was willingly climbing into bed without England pushing him.

With a tired sigh, he settled in the bed. Snaking a hand out from under the sheets, he grabbed England's and intertwined their fingers. The tan and pale fitting together like a two pieced puzzle. England smiled and took a seat next to America, watching as the blue eyes slowly closed into a peaceful slumber.

"England," America mumbled before sleep took its hold. "I have to tell you something."

"I love you, too, you bloody git," England said, guessing what his boyfriend was going to say.

America cracked a blue eye open, "That's not what I was going to say." He smiled wittily as the British man gave a mad pout. "I was gonna say," he yawned and propped and elbow under himself so he could see England. "Now I'm really glad you didn't get eaten by a ghost hag."

England gave a lighthearted chuckle,"Go to sleep, moron."

America closed his eyes, truly feeling better than he had in a long time. He quickly slipped from consciousness, England too feeling his own exhaustion gently covering his senses.

Hours later a doctor and Germany entered the room to find the two smiling men asleep, hands still firmly locked together.

**Yep, sorta cheesy. I might add on an epilogue because I still have few extra ideas left from this (and ten is my favorite number so I really want ten chapters). **

**But for the most part this is finally over! Thank you for sticking it through until the end! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited. If it wasn't for you guys, I would've never finished this! **


	10. Chapter 10: (Epilogue) Mattress Surfing

**Finally, I have come to finish this with a fluffy little epilogue. I've been mean enough to my favorite nations so I thought I cut them some slack.**

**Thank you for all the favorites and reviews. I'm really glad people enjoyed it. I've started another piece, but updates are coming slowly due to school and such. But I made sure to wrap this story up! :D**

**First fluff, epilogue piece. Enjoy the final chapter of A Hospitalized Hero!**

"No, no, no! A million times over! No," England gripped his phone tightly, arguing with a slightly intoxicated Frenchman. "France, just go home and sleep it off."

England juggled two large grocery bags, the paper crinkling and threatening to tear under the weight of the obscene amount of groceries. In the year he and Alfred had lived together, England had never seen or bought (well, technically he and America split the responsibility) as much food as America seemed to consume.

"Seriously France, you come up with stupid ideas even when you're sober," England stopped at his door, trying to open the door whilst keeping the bags from overflowing. "I know it seems perfectly rational to a drunk idiot like you, but nothing good can come from it." Balancing the bags in the crook of his arms, he turned the brass knob and pushed it opened with his foot. "For the last time, France, I-"

"Yo, Artie! You got home just in time," America stood atop the large staircase, mattress underfoot. "I think I got it down now. Watch!"

England casted the groceries to the side, eggs rattling and fruit bruising. "I have to go," England hung up, thoroughly angry and worried. "Alfred F. Jones. Get off of that this instant!"

America's laugh resounded through the house. "Dude, when did you stop acting like my boyfriend? You sound like a mother!" America gave a loud laugh. "Ready?" He took two steps back, readying himself in position.

"ALFRED, YOU BETTER NOT-" Without further thought, America ran and propelled himself onto his mattress and began his fast descent down the steps. It seemed to go smoothly for about all of two steps. The corner of the mattress caught the edge of a stair sending the brazen blonde into a free fall. He tumbled for the rest of his plight, his journey ending with his face smacking the floor at the feet of England. The mattress continued its rampaging path, ending by toppling over a small table with a vase

England stared at his moronic lover laying facedown amongst the shattered vase fragments. "You okay," he asked in a bored manner, it took a lot for America to truly be injured.

"..." America did not respond, remaining perfectly still against the floor.

Worried by his partner's unusual silence, England poked America's blonde mop with the toe of his shoe. "Alfred?" England gave another small kick to America.

The taller nation's head shot, a groggy daze evident on his face. "Dude..." he blinked his eyes a few times.

"I told you not to do it, git," England grumbled as America came back to his senses.

"Dude," America repeated, a clearness returning to his features, a grin returning as well. "Dude! That was FREAKING AWESOME!" He popped up to his feet, grabbing England's shoulders. "Did you see that mattress fly?"

"Yes, I can assure I did see it." Despite the destruction of his property, England had to contain a small smirk as he tried to glare at America. "Go get a broom and some towels to clean this up."

"Aye aye, sir," America gave an energetic mock salute and briskly jogged to grab the items.

With a smile gracing his features, the Englishman stooped to pick up the larger pieces of vase. After America had been released from the hospital, he and England had begun a long distance relationship, only able to meet up personally during World Meetings (much to Germany's irritation). Proving to be too strenuous on their relationship, they opted to move in together, choosing to live in both nations and moving when they felt like it.

Besides the unseemly amount of food, England enjoyed nothing more than living with the American. There were spats and arguments, some lasting in silent treatments up to three weeks. And America's abnormal behaviors, such as trying various extreme sports with household items, and his erratic video gaming schedule were not ideal for the two living together.

But England could not find any other single time in his civilization when he had been so happy. America would find the simplest ways to make England smile.

"Iggy!" Strong arms scooped up the Brit, swinging the blonde around and setting him back down.

England swatted at him, "What are you doing, we have to clean this up!" America shuffled and shards splintered under his shoes, justifying England's response. England chuckled as America lifted his foot, seeming almost perplexed that there was still glass on the floor. "Hand me that broom."

America handed the broom over, bending down with a rag and moping up the spilled water. "You just looked like you were deep in thought."

"So naturally you thought to distract me?" England raised a thick eyebrow at the taller.

"Yep," America chirped happily. "What were you even thinkin' about?" He wiped at the floor, maneuvering around the glass.

Both were silent for a moment, America busy with his rag and England sweeping.

"I'm glad we're together," England stated nonchalantly.

"Hmm?" America was surprised England even answer, he had assumed british man had been in deep thought about a new spell or something along those lines. A slight pink tinge lit his cheeks, England wasn't much for showing his feelings very often.

England smirked at his lover. He bent over where America was busy scrubbing an invisible stain. England cleared his throat and the American looked up, his clear blue eyes questioning. Before America could react, England captured his lips and pulled his body up into a tight hold.

Moments later they broke for air. "I love you," England was already breathless from the one simple kiss. He licked his lips, weighing his options.

He looked around at the catastrophe that still needed to be cleaned. "God," he groaned and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. "I hate leaving a mess to clean."

"Why? Where are we going?" America asked, completely oblivious to England's actions.

"The bedroom," England stated flatly, giving an are-you-kidding-me look towards the other.

America's eyes lit up at the prospect of his favorite activity. "Oh!" He took charge quickly, crashing down on England once more for a quick kiss. He grabbed England's wrist, and not so gently dragged him up the stairs and into their room.

Before America could close the door, England noticed something direly important that was missing. "America, the mattress is still downstairs..." He glared at the man, mad that his foolish ideas were causing postponement.

America's laugh boomed through the house. "No time Arthur. We don't need it."

Before the Brit could retort, America caught him in a kiss. The door closed, leaving the two men together to continue.

**I am done! :D Ten chapters! Whoo!**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed. It was knowing that people actually enjoyed this that kept me writing. So I sincerely thank you! It meant so much to me! **


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